


The Glint In His Eye

by race-jackson (Race_Jackson23)



Series: Sunshine Oneshots [3]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bigotry & Prejudice, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Coming Out, F/M, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Male Friendship, Multi, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Racist Language, Steve Has No Chill, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 15:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12135543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Race_Jackson23/pseuds/race-jackson
Summary: "Stubborn, stupid and sweet Steve Rogers did not back down, even when the odds were clearly stacked against him. No matter how many there were, or how big or dangerous, he failed to keep his dumb mouth shut whenever some other punk did something stupid, and it often ended in alleyway brawls and bloodied noses."When passionate, stubborn, wilful Steve Rogers starts becoming withdrawn, the people around him worry. Bucky is particularly concerned.alternatively known as: that obligatory steve coming out fic set in 1930s brooklyn





	The Glint In His Eye

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greendragon_templar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greendragon_templar/gifts).



> Wow, apparently I write a lot when I have assignments that I absolutely need writing. Who knew? You don't need to have read anything else in this series to understand this fic, but it gives a bit of context and background for Chapter Three of Of Man and Machine. Just a short oneshot exploring my faves Buckaroo and Stevo. Enjoy!

Sickly Steve Rogers was small, short and slight and constantly struck down with lung illnesses, and yet that hardly stopped him from picking fights with bullies bigger and stronger than him. Stubborn, stupid and sweet Steve Rogers did not back down, even when the odds were clearly stacked against him. No matter how many there were, or how big or dangerous, he failed to keep his dumb mouth shut whenever some other punk did something stupid, and it often ended in alleyway brawls and bloodied noses.

Constantly looking out for Steve was hardly what Bucky was expecting when they became friends, but it quickly became the reality. In hindsight, it should have been obvious that Bucky would end up watching out for the punk, because he really had no self-preservation instinct of his own and also because one of Steve’s childhood brawls _had_ been how they met.

He’d been walking with Ellie back from school, only two blocks away from their apartment, when they passed the opening for the alleyway behind Joe’s. Despite the rumble of car engines and the chatter of the crowded pathways, the crunch of fists hitting flesh carried to him. Bucky found himself peering into the alley, and the sight of three boys not much older than himself standing over someone much smaller spurred him into action.

“Oi, leave him alone!” he shouted, and the boys, looking uncertain at their ability to take on someone else, scattered with a few taunts. Bucky grimaced at them and flashed a rude hand gesture that he’d seen his father use a few times, to Ellie’s shock. Ignoring his little sister, he crouched down next to the crumpled heap at the end of the alleyway. “Hey, are you alright?” he asked.

The heap groaned. Bucky had bit his lip and edged closer, intent on helping the younger kid up. When he did, he recognised him immediately – Stanley, or Samuel, or something starting with S. He was in Bucky’s year level at school, and his mom was Nurse Rogers who the Barneses always saw at Mass. Whenever Bucky saw him, he was always coughing.

“Hey bud, you ok? Do you want me to get your mom?” said Bucky worriedly, eyeing the cut on the smaller kid’s cheek.

Rogers groaned again. “M’fine,” he moaned. He had swayed slightly as Bucky got him to his feet, which prompted raised eyebrows from both Bucky and Ellie. “Don’ wan’ worry ’er.”

Bucky shouldered his insubstantial weight and the three of them starting trekking to where Bucky knew Mrs Rogers lived. As they limped off, he’d watched the smaller kid out of the corner of his eye. Pale despite the obvious toll physical exertion was taking on him, Rogers was breathing shallowly, his winces slight and contained.  For all that he’d been beat to hell and back, he looked as if he was pretending he hadn’t.

Unable to contain his curiosity, Bucky blurted out, “Why were you fighting those boys?”

Rogers coughed, pulling Bucky to a halt as he tried to get his breathing under control. Once he had, he levelled Bucky with defiant eyes and told him, “I don’t like bullies.”

And just like that, Bucky Barnes became the bodyguard of the dumb Chihuahua known as Steve Rogers. It was after the third brawl two weeks into their friendship that Bucky realised that Steve was a trouble magnet and a half that couldn’t help but be drawn into shit, which meant that Bucky was destined to also be drawn into shit. After a while, he just resigned himself to it, because otherwise Steve’s face would end up mincemeat.

The thing was, Steve was more likely to defend certain people than others. Sure, he always stood up against tyrants, but sometimes the occasion didn’t call for it, or someone else diffused the situation, like the teachers at school. It was often those who couldn’t stand up for themselves that Steve championed, like Sally Jennings whose parents couldn’t afford to replace her skirts or the homeless man on the street corner. It meant that Steve and Bucky didn’t have backup in their fights and ended up bloody more often than not.

Eventually, Steve got bolder about picking fights, confident that Bucky would be by his side, so it was almost immediately obvious when, at about fourteen, he started becoming withdrawn and composed.

There was the incident when they were walking home after running papers and a pack of twits had been heckling Mary-Jeanne and Joelle from the apartment down the street, and who everyone knew were dykes. Steve had shouted after the men, as per usual, but half-heartedly, and when the men shouted back and loomed menacingly ahead, he had almost folded in on himself, stepping away with placating hands outstretched. The men had snickered at them before sauntering away, and when Bucky praised Steve’s restraint, the younger boy looked sullen for the rest of the afternoon.

Another time, one of the assholes from class – George, who was always making comments about Bucky’s mom being a mocky – started making noise about how Steve and Bucky were fairies and that he’d seen them blowing each other in the alleyway behind school. Everyone knew he was a liar, so it didn’t bother Bucky any, but what surprised him was Steve’s reaction. Instead of challenging George, he had just ducked his head, cheeks sucked in and lips pursed in displeasure.

For all that Bucky thought he’d be happy if Steve backed down a bit, he found himself worrying about the lug. In all the time he’d known him, Steve had been passionate to a stupid extent, willing to support and defend those around him even when it meant he’d be worse off. He was _constitutionally incapable_ of leaving assholes be. To back off wasn’t in his nature, wasn’t _Steve_ as Bucky had come to know and love him.

It wasn’t just the fights either; Bucky would understand if Steve had mellowed in that respect, had become more restrained as he got older. No, it was Steve himself that had withdrawn. He stopped doodling in the margins of his notebooks and started slouching in his seat in class. He started ignoring the people he’d spent so much time championing. His confession time had up ticked, and he visited church every afternoon for an hour after class. Worst of all, he had started avoiding Bucky, although it took a while to realise that that was what was happening.

“Boys start to settle into themselves when they’re of your age, Jae,” his mom told him, her tone unconcerned yet her eyes glinting with worry. “Steve’s just having trouble with the settling.”

Despite his misgivings, his mother’s words let him be assured that it was just a fact of growing up. Besides, Steve was more mature than Bucky was anyway, so it wasn’t a surprise he was becoming an adult quicker. Bucky was content to let it go, still troubled by the growing gulf between them but not wanting to push Steve even further away by nagging him about it.

And then, Sarah came and spoke to him.

Sarah Rogers was a small woman like her son, thin and bony, with dark shadows under her eyes that attested to the long hours she worked at the hospital. A decidedly religious woman, she always wore a polished wooden cross about her neck, and her necklines were always conservatively high which made her look more severe than she truly was. Like Steve, she had a kindness about her that served her well as a nurse, some quality of caring that danced in her eyes and meant she always fussed over Steve and Bucky by extension.

Those same blue eyes pierced him as he finished his paper rounds alone one evening. Perched on the stairs to his apartment block, Sarah waited quietly, only getting to her feet when he approached the stairs.

“Hey Mrs Rogers,” called Bucky, giving her a smile. “How have your rounds been?”

“Long,” she replied, “and tiring. How have you been, James?”

“I’m alright,” he said. He glanced down the street, wondering if she was waiting for Steve, who was confessing at church. “Steve isn’t here if you’re looking for ’im, he’s with Father Walsh last I heard.”

She smiled at him, a soft twitch that made her look like Steve. “Yes, I know. I was looking for you.”

“Me, Mrs Rogers?” he asked. He frowned. “Wha’cha looking for me for?”

Sarah gestured for them to sit on the steps, and once they were settled, she told him about the argument Steve had picked with her the night before, and how he’d been surly and reclusive for the past few months. She was worried about him, she told Bucky, worried about whether he was being bullied even more than usual at school, worried that he wasn’t telling her anything anymore – and that more than anything was particularly perturbing, because Steve and Sarah told each other about everything. Had he told Bucky anything? Did Bucky know why Steve was acting so strangely? Bucky answered negatively, because he truthfully hadn’t been told anything whatsoever, but he was entirely resolved to find out.

“Thank you, James,” said Sarah, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. “Steve truly is lucky to have a friend like you.”

He shook his head. “I’m lucky to have him,” he told her. He patted her on the shoulder, then indicated the building door. “Do you wanna come up? Mom would love it if you dropped by.”

“I should get going,” said Sarah reluctantly, “I need to get home before Steve does.”

“Sure Mrs R,” said Bucky, giving her a smile as they parted ways.

Sarah’s visit occupied him for the next week, playing in the back of his head and keeping him up at night. Speaking to Steve was a trial and a half too, especially since the younger boy had become adept at avoiding him, but Bucky needed time to process and figure out how to approach him so it wasn’t entirely terrible. And as it was, the perfect opportunity arose soon after.

Bucky had managed to corner Steve under the guise of walking him home after one of his confessions and Steve, too polite to refuse, grudgingly walked with him. It was then, as they walked the three blocks from church to Steve’s apartment, that they came across George from school and a few of his goons having a go at Joelle as she tried to pass them.

“Oi!” called Bucky.

They all looked up at him, Joelle with relief on her face and his classmates with sneers. He made to step towards the boys, but a hand gripping his right arm made him pause and look down at Steve in confusion.

“Just let it go Bucky,” murmured Steve, not meeting Bucky’s eyes.

He stopped. A buzzing filled his ears and he felt like shaking his head, because obviously his ears were malfunctioning. _Had Steve_ –? His shock and disgust must have migrated to his face, because Steve flinched back from with a wavering lower lip, unshed tears swimming in his blue eyes.

"What is wrong with you?" said Bucky, and he turned away to deal with George. Almost instantly, Bucky regretted saying it, but he didn’t regret that it made Steve actually talk to him.

Many, many years later, what was said between them had almost blurred to obscurity. Bucky remembered Steve supporting him to Sarah’s empty apartment, slightly injured from a headshot the assholes had managed to get in, and Steve fixing them up tea as they sat on the ratty two-seater. Praise, Bucky even remembered making some stupid comment about dying for hot chocolate which had Steve sighing exasperatedly.

But the words exchanged between them? Time and HYDRA had taken most of them, except for the most precious, for which he was thankful. Bucky supposed that one upside of being brainwashed and mind-wiped was that he mostly forgot the hurtful things he undoubtedly said in his anger towards Steve’s cowardice. Clear as day, though, was the wavering of tears in Steve’s voice as he responded to Bucky’s prodding.

“I can’t!” he had cried out. His eyes had burned into Bucky’s, that defiant glint almost buried in the tears, and it was the first time he had looked like himself in a month. “I don’t want you to hate me!”

Bucky’s heart broke.

“I could never hate you,” he said softly, “but I hate that you don’t trust me enough to be yourself around me.” Wrapping Steve up into a bear hug, he held him as he sobbed into his shoulder, dampening Bucky’s shirt. “You’re my brother and I love you. I’m with you ’til the end of the line, pal, you know that.”

And so the flood had broken. Steve had cried about being _wrong_ , about being _sick_ , and Bucky Barnes – his protector, his brother in all but blood – had just hugged him and told him that nothing would ever be wrong with him. So what if Steve liked boys as well as girls? Made no difference to Bucky, he insisted, because Steve was still Steve no matter who he liked. The sheer relief on Steve’s face as he told him that made Bucky’s heart stutter in his chest – because how terribly he must’ve been feeling to make that face?

It hardened Bucky’s resolve to protect Steve even more, to make sure that Steve never felt like he had to hide a part of himself from Bucky ever again. He was his brother, and he was stubborn and stupid but sweet. That little Brooklyn boy so intent on helping others should never have felt so insecure as to not be his demented Chihuahua self. He deserved the world, and Bucky would make sure he had it.

Eighty-five years later, as Bucky watched Steve, no longer small and skinny but hulking and strong, marry the man of his dreams, he found that, for all that the need to protect Steve had changed, the love in his heart for Steve never had.  

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hoped you enjoyed! Please leave a kudos, or even a comment (:O) to let me know what you think the strengths and weaknesses were. I spent a lot of my time and energy on this as a kind of cathartic exercise - at the moment, Australia is having a survey on whether gay people should be able to be married, and it's taking a bit of a toll on me emotionally - so I'd really appreciate it if you let me know what you thought. PLEASE go check out Of Man and Machine, it'd really mean a lot to me and might even get me over the bit I'm stuck on.


End file.
